


Fall for me

by CoinToYourWitcher



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A love for incomplete sentences and stream of consciousness, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And not the force choking kind, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Ben is kind of an asshole, Choking, Cussing, Daddy Dom Kylo Ren, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom!BenSolo, Dom!Kylo, Drinking, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Miscommunication, Noncon tag bc there is a scene folks requested it for., Reylo - Freeform, Using the F word, ben is 31, cheating but not really, daddy dom, rey is 21, they were ON a BREAK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24332074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoinToYourWitcher/pseuds/CoinToYourWitcher
Summary: For her 21st birthday, Rey splurges for a classy night out at The Venetian Resort in Las Vegas. Little does she know, her friends, Poe and Finn, are on a secret mission to help their shy, complicated friend get her first kiss.Having just learned of the Dorsey Cocktail Bar’s reputation for being the haunt of high-end escorts, they mistakenly solicit a man for the task, granting him all the intel someone would need to win her over.The Spotify Playlist
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 195
Kudos: 485
Collections: A Picture is worth 1000 Words - PL Summer Exchange





	1. Meet a nice girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I don't want to be mean  
>  But I'm sick of meeting  
> New people on my scene  
> I'm stimulated, overstated  
> I just wanna get sedated  
> On the contrary  
> I just wanna meet a nice girl**   
> 
> 
> Isolate by Sub Urban  
> 

[ ](https://ibb.co/G3cgMVY)

Ben turned the bar seat sideways so he could keep an eye on the entrance. He was early. The bartender, Beaumont, brought him his usual, Irish whiskey, because fuck cocktails.

Knowing him well, Beaumont kept his hand on the bottle, waiting for Ben to down the quarter-full glass, before pulling it back and refilling him. 

He’d sip the second one, now that his throat burned with self loathing. Anything more and he’d have a difficult time entertaining the potential investor--some young 20-something tech brat--anything less and he’d be unable to summon a smile.

Looking around, Ben watched a couple--newlyweds by the look of them--curled up on the modern couch with their $20 cocktails, whispering their sweet nothings, useless words he didn’t need or want…and would never receive. 

Behind them sat a beautiful woman, blonde, tight dress, an escort no doubt. The Dorsey Cocktail bar at The Venetian Resort was an infamous haunt for high-end prostitutes, male and female. She smiled coyly at him, but he looked back to the door. Maybe his investor would want some paid company later, but it wasn’t Ben’s thing.

Ben spotted a young man meeting the description of his payout, walking straight towards him at the bar, glancing at him with an air of asking. 

“Do you talk first? Do I talk first?” The boy asked, nervously.

Standing up, Ben shook his hand, firmly. He knew his investor was in his twenties, but he was expecting late twenties, not early.

“Ben Solo. Drink?” Ben asked, grinning forcibly.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied, not offering _his_ name, information Ben was hoping for, since he had forgotten. There were too many investors. He did this every weekend.

Ben almost laughed when the boy pulled out his ID for the bartender. As if that were needed when he was with Ben. He ordered the first thing on the drink menu, apparently lacking in experience or preference with liquor. God, these kids.

“Look, I’m just going to cut to the chase,” he said, sitting in the stool next to Ben. “I know you’re an escort.”

Ben blinked.

This wasn’t the first time this mistake had happened. Ben usually spent twenty minutes gazing around for his investors, which sent all the wrong signals. 

“I’m-,” Ben started to correct him, before an African American friend practically slid up to the bar to join the other. They looked at him excitedly, clearly planning something.

“We don’t have much time. We want to hire your services,” the first said, adding, “Oh, I’m Poe, this is Finn.”

“Hi,” Ben laughed, shooting the bartender a look not to give the game away. This was too entertaining. He briefly wondered if they were going to solicit him for a gay threesome.

“It’s not for us,” the one called ‘Finn’ added, reading his mind.

This just got more interesting.

“It’s our friend’s 21st birthday. She’ll be down in ten minutes. We heard about people...like you...here and thought, oh my gosh, that’s perfect because she’s never been kissed,” Poe said quickly, keeping an eye on the entrance.

Ben squirmed, surprised that they were propositioning him for a girl now. 

“She’s not a prude, she’s just looking for Prince Charming, and honestly, it’s not going to happen, so can we just tell you what to be for one night?” Finn asked, pulling out an actual fucking list.

“Go on,” Ben smirked, curious what qualities were apparently necessary to open their friend’s legs. He listened, twisting his glass in slow circles on the coaster as Finn dove into her desires.

“Rey’s shy around guys. You have to be _persistent_. She’s a big reader. Mention Thomas Hardy, you know, maybe Google him even. I think he wrote Wuthering Heights.”

Wrong.

“Don’t talk about sports. I don’t know if you drive a truck, but don’t drive a truck. Which goes without saying that you should be very Democrat. Pretend to be vegetarian. Like as vegetarian as possible.”

Vegan. Two years.

“Be vulnerable, but also confident. If Rey brings up obscure bands, act like they’re _okay_ , then outdo her with bands _she_ hasn’t even heard of.”

Indie chick, nice. Always a rough fuck.

“Pretend you’ve traveled. Actually, you’ve probably traveled, so just mention _where_ you’ve traveled. Don’t talk about money. Pretend you hate social media. Rey loves Jimmy Stewart movies. She’s British. Talk about family but don’t ask about hers-,” Poe cut Finn off.

“Do you want the list? Seems like a lot to remember,” Poe said, worried Finn was going too fast.

Ben pointed lazily to his head, “Got it all up here.” 

“Take it just in case,” Poe said, folding it up and putting it next to Ben’s drink.

His investor would be arriving soon. He should break character and tell them the bad news, that they were imbeciles and there was no way they would be able to afford a Gucci-clad escort to reenact Never Been Kissed for them, judging by their podunk shopping mall Armani Exchange jeans.

“That’s her,” Poe hissed, grabbing his drink off the bar and spinning Finn around. They speed-walked over to meet her, pretending Ben didn’t exist. 

Ben froze, seeing their friend step into the bar. Audrey Hepburn in a pink dress and kitten heels. His acidic mind went blank, unable to come up with a flaw to criticize. He wasn’t sure what he’d been picturing, but it wasn’t that.

As the trio approached the bar, he stared at his drink, watching his glass sweat. She looked right at him, making sure he didn’t mind her grabbing the menu, which she read with a quiet smile, picking out her first legal drink. Her innocence was almost painful to watch, igniting a burn in his chest, somewhere in the dead place where affection and endearments should reside. 

Poe opened up a tab for her and she took her Ketel One screwdriver to the couches, cheersing her friends as they shot Ben uneasy glances, expecting him to make some debonair move. 

Rey, as she was called, crossed her ankles and gazed around at the gilded brass and French oak, her eyes avoiding him at first, but eventually catching on him, not because she was interested, but because he was staring at her. There was something beautiful yet perverse about the way her greenish eyes looked up from beneath her lashes.

Ben stuffed their list into his hidden jacket pocket and turned to Beaumont, “When my investor shows up, make some excuse.” 

Beaumont nodded, taking away his soggy coaster as Ben lifted his glass. 

Ben stood, ready to pursue a different payout tonight.


	2. Fall for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Talk to me  
>  I need to hear you need me like I need you  
> Fall for me  
> I wanna know you feel how I feel for you, love  
> Before you, baby, I was numb  
> Drown the pain by pouring up**  
> Falling by Trevor Daniel

Ben slid onto the couch across from the girl, Rey. He put his arm around her friend.

  
  
“Poe! I _thought_ it was you!” He said, feigning an acquaintance. 

Rey sat up straighter, waiting for one of them to explain how they knew each other. 

Enjoying the deception, Ben waited for Poe to scramble for a backstory.

“Ben! Yeah, wild,” he exclaimed, glancing at Rey and Finn. “This is Ben, from…”

“Did I hear you were celebrating a birthday?” Ben saved him, leaning forward to shake Rey’s hand.

“Yes, I’m 21!” she said, her eyes alight. He noticed her full lips, shiny with lip gloss. He’d mess that up.

Ben pointed over his shoulder. “Have you guys been to the Dorsey before? Did you know there’s a library lounge in the back with a fireplace?”

“Really?” Rey said, as they stood to follow him.

Ben motioned for Finn and Poe to go first, allowing them to exchange secret glances as he trailed behind with Rey. 

In the hallway, Ben turned to her, stopping her with an arm out.

“Can I ask you something?” Ben whispered conspiratorially.

Rey froze, watching her friends continue on without them. “Oh, sure.”

Ben leaned in, moving closer as she pressed her back to the wall, letting his lips graze hers, her eyes wide. When she didn’t object, he moved his mouth on hers, begging for entrance. She let his tongue snake inside, let his hand curve around her waist, before coming back to herself and pushing on his chest with the hand not holding her drink.

“Whoa! What the hell was that?” she snapped, her surprise turning to anger.

Ben smiled at her, making no apology, but he removed his hand from her waist.

“That wasn’t a question,” she said, bewildered.

“Wasn’t it?” Ben said, seriously, watching her exhale slowly. 

Rey glanced at her friends, sitting on a couch in the library, leaning their heads back to watch in shock. They couldn’t hear their conversation, but Rey whispered anyway, babbling, “I just met you 60 seconds ago. You don’t even know my name. I don’t. Do people do this? Just meet someone and-.”

“Fuck in the bathroom?” Ben suggested, enjoying the way she laughed a gasp.

“Seriously, who ARE you?” She said, rhetorically. She took a long swallow of her drink, her adrenaline giving her dry mouth.

The true test was coming. He took three steps back to the men’s room until he was standing in the frame, propping the door wide open with his foot, looking back at her with his silent offer. To defile her in the bathroom. 

She gaped at him.

“Do you really expect me to just-” she started, stopping as he turned and went inside, letting the door close. 

He knew if she was still standing in the hall talking to him that she was game, even if it would take her a moment to realize it herself.

Inside, he set his drink down, checked under the stalls for feet, then removed his tie in the mirror, waiting patiently as ten seconds went by. 

The door opened cautiously as she peeked inside. 

“Um,” she said, confused.

Ben liked virgins. They were like motherless ducklings, imprinting on the first man that stirred something in them. Rey didn’t need Mr. Right. She was 21. She _needed_ a good, solid fucking. She could get her romance from books.

Pulling her further into the room, Ben spun the door lock with a satisfying click and lifted her to sit on the counter. 

She set her drink down next to his, the rattle of the glass on the linoleum a resounding indication that her hand was shaking. 

Separating her knees, he stepped between her legs, tilting his head in to find her lips, the taste of cherry lip gloss still lingering there.

He used their reflection to find her zipper and make progress all the way down to her ass. Sliding her asymmetrical dress over her shoulder, he followed it’s descent with his mouth, tasting her skin, clean and smooth, south to where her cleavage would be, if she had any.

He didn’t mind small breasts. She could probably tell that by his dick hardening against her crotch.

“Ben,” she said, under her breath.

It sounded too intimate.

“Don’t call me that,” he chuckled.

“That’s your name, what should I call you?”

Sliding her off the counter, he pulled her dress to her feet. 

“You can call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Daddy’,” he said seriously as he rose back up to his full height.

She stood timidly before him in her strapless black bra, matching panties, and heels. Her arms straight at her sides, she stepped out of her birthday dress as he savored the look of her, flushing with anticipation and trying to reconcile her actions with her previous self. The one from three minutes ago.

“Unzip my pants,” Ben said, taking a sip of his drink, waiting for her to battle her fear and decide she liked that idea, but he pushed her hand aside before she touched him. “With your teeth.”

“What?” Rey laughed. She was an anxious laugher. He liked that. It meant she’d probably be loud. He liked screamers.

Unbuttoning his own shirt, Ben hung it on the coat hooks by the door, before stepping closer. “We don’t have a ton of time before your friends come knocking,” he said, casually.

“But, why my teeth? If we’re in a hurry, I could just use my hands,” she said, stalling.

Ben tilted her chin up. “It was _going_ to be a timesaver, because I want to send you back to your friends with pink knees, so they know what a good little whore you are. And once you’ve had my cock in your mouth, you’ll be wet enough to take it, do you understand?” 

He could feel her teeth start to chatter inside her mouth, before he released her chin. “Or we could just go sit in the library all night,” he said, reaching for his shirt.

“No,” she said, quickly, falling to her knees. He smirked despite himself as she craned her neck.

She undid the top button of his pants with trembling fingers, but found the zipper with her tongue, then grasped the small piece of metal in her teeth, pulling it down several inches. When she was done, her hazel eyes flashed up at him for approval.

“Good girl,” Ben mouthed, his voice already husky. 

She was scared to reach for him so he fanned his pants open and pulled his dick through the top of his boxer briefs, watching as her face and ears turned a violent red.

She reached for him but he slapped her hand away again, stroking himself. 

“Were you really about to put a stranger’s dick in your mouth? You don’t know if I have an STD,” he said, annoyed at her naïveté.

“Wouldn’t you tell me if you had something?” She asked, frustrated, lowering herself to sit on her heels. She watched his hand move up and down, like a cat watching someone waving a toy.

“No, never trust men when it comes to sex,” he told her, exasperated. “I’m clean, but, Jesus Fuck.”

She grabbed his cock, raised herself up, and swallowed him, sucking hard. In shock, Ben grabbed at the sink in desperation, but a noise escaped him. Something like a “guh!”

He looked at himself in the mirror, giving himself a what-the-fuck-face, before feeling her find an intoxicating rhythm, pulling and pushing, her soft lips and tongue massaging him, testing to see how far she could fit him. 

He felt his tip hit her throat muscles and nearly came just then, but imagined someone he hated - his uncle - and was able to resist the urge to spill down her throat. Because you don’t do that to virgins.

“What are you, starving? Don’t they feed you back home?” He joked, glad she couldn’t see his cringe of pleasure as her little hand tried to wrap all the way around his girth—and failed.

She raked him with her teeth, silently telling him to stop making fun of her. That second of fear pumped more blood, made him harder than he thought possible. She squeezed his shaft, her mouth turning up in a proud smile, with him still down her throat.

“Hey, girl, don’t start misbehaving now,” he warned, looking down at her and feeling his hair fall in his face.

She looked up at him, locked eyes, and fucking did it again. He watched her top teeth travel the length of his shaft, leaving white lines in their wake.

“Oh, you’re asking for it,” he said, pulling her up by the hair, and hearing his dick leave her mouth with a “pop”. 

He ripped her panties to her feet, grabbed between her legs, and lifted her by that hand to sit her on the counter, enjoying the tiny gasp this elicited.

“Holyfuckyouaresowet,” he said, feeling suddenly drunk as she pulled his face down to kiss her. He tested her entrance with a finger, feeling his dick throb. He was trying to finger her but his mind was clouded. He felt himself losing control. But she was too tight, he couldn’t fuck her yet.

Rey’s hands traveled down over every swell and hollow of his chest, down, grabbing him and spreading her legs wider. 

“Come here, _Daddy_ ,” she whispered.

She knew somehow that he was struggling. He needed to come. He wanted to feel her. He wanted to come all over her.

When he felt his cock in the right spot, he drove himself in like a nail on the first try. She cried out, but immediately clarified with a whine, a sick lullaby to his ears.

He grabbed her throat for support, and to let her know he was going to be rough. She dug her fingernails into his forearm in response, reminding him of a cat again.

Ben thrust deliciously into her, the grip of her around him was impossible, perfect, enough to make him delirious, enough to close his eyes, which he _never_ did during the act.

With his eyes closed he could smell her, no perfume, just Herbal Essences. Hear her better, her breath coming in gasps, punctuated by whiney little moans, begging without the words. He knew she was going to be loud. The bathroom was magnifying it, no doubt patrons could hear her now too. But he didn’t stop.

“You’re being so good for me,” he said, feeling her quiver under him. She liked his voice. 

He liked _her_.

He was trying not to use that _other_ word. The word he didn’t use even in his own thoughts. He just kept telling himself that he _liked_ the smell of her hair. He _liked_ the way she moved on him. He _liked_ the noises she was making. But really, he knew that he _loved_ it. He _loved_ the delicate flutter at the base of her throat. He _loved_ the way she was embarrassed and excited at the same time. He _loved_ the satisfaction of watching her figure out who she was, handing him her innocence in this moment of vile honesty. He loved it. He loved it. He loved.

Ben didn’t know how he felt about this. The word made him want to wretch. But maybe everyone else was onto something, shackling themselves to one person. Ben had shackles at home...

Her noises started to sound desperate. She was trapped in limbo waiting for his rescue. 

He inhaled sharply, his movements becoming erratic, struggling to prevent his release before hers. 

“Come,” he ordered her, hoping his voice would help, since she seemed to respond to it. He felt her shake, but she wouldn’t let go. She was still holding on, refusing to give way, refusing to bring an end to this, even if her body wanted the release. 

He softened, moving his hand from her throat to cradle the back of her neck, lowering his lips to her ear and whispered deeply, “Come for me, sweetheart.”

“Mmhmm,” she said into his shoulder, her walls clenching around him. Her thighs shook and her hands fisted, one around his neck and in his hair, the other against his chest. How was it possible that she had just gotten tighter and wetter than she was at the start? 

He had forgotten to ask about birth control. Idiot! He almost pulled out but she prevented it, holding him tight as he harshly thrust home, “ahh fuck…” He buried his face in her neck, ashamed. 

“I’m sorry!” He said, opening his eyes. Why did he do that? He was always so cautious. 

“It’s okay,” she smiled, “I’ve been on the pill for like four years.”

“Good girl,” he said again, pushing her hair out of her face, realizing he never even removed her bra. It felt like he was saving something for later. Later? He didn’t do _later_. He kissed her, but they were both out of breath. 

Just in case she wasn’t aware that she needed to pee after sex, he suggested it and she looked at him seriously.

“How did you know I was a virgin? Was it the blowjob?” She said, wilting.

Ben laughed, “No! That was the best blowjob I’ve ever had!”

Pleased, she slid off the counter and grabbed her things, retreating to a stall, where he heard her peeing. “Don’t listen to me!” She laughed.

Ben tried to wipe the schoolboy smile off his face as he washed himself, grabbing his shirt and redoing his tie in the mirror. 

“What’s this?” She said curiously, coming out holding up Poe and Finn’s ‘how to get Rey to fall for you’ list. It must have slipped out of his jacket pocket. He took it back, still folded, wondering who really fell for who just now.

“It’s a list of things I’m going to do to you tomorrow,” he said, handing her his business card and making for the door before she read it.

“Happy Birthday, Rey. Sorry about your knees,” he said playfully.

She looked down at the two abraded spots as he twisted the lock.

“Wait, how do you know my name?” Rey asked his back, but the door swung closed.

He winked at Poe and Finn, standing outside the door in the hallway.

“Dude, what-,” Poe started. They looked furious.

“Free of charge,” he said as he made for the exit. 

By the time he strode out of the bar, looking positively wrecked, he knew they’d be reading his business card. 

**Ben Solo**

**_Owner_ **

**The Venetian and The Palazzo**

**555-738-1894**

Ben’s phone buzzed in his pants pocket as he waited for his driver to bring the car around. It was a text message from an unknown number.

**Just talked to Poe and Finn... You couldn't have even tried to woo me proper? Daddy?**

Ben laughed, thinking for a minute.

**A lover without indiscretion is no lover at all. - Thomas Hardy**


	3. Tell me that I'm fucked up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Tell me that I'm fucked up  
>  Mentally unstable  
> Tell me that I care too much  
> About my whole damn fable  
> I just want your body  
> I don't want your mind**
> 
> Broken by Sub Urban

“I don’t do this,” Ben said, waving his hands at the table, before tossing the cloth napkin in his lap. He felt like he was pretending to be a gentleman. But she knew what he was.

“Don’t do what?” She asked, looking around, confused.

“I don’t take women out to dinner,” Ben sighed. He had no idea how to seduce a woman through conversation. It was tiresome. And pointless. He already had to entertain dipshits every weekend, now he had to do it for her too?

She knew he wasn’t a big texter either. He’d given her his assistant’s number once he found out she wasn’t immediately available. Then his assistant went through his calendar and found a Friday night they both had available. Romantic. 

“What do you normally do?” Rey asked, looking like she already regretted the question.

“I don’t pay for it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Ben snapped. 

Rey set her drink down, not making eye contact with him anymore. He was fucking up their ‘date’ like a champ. Ugh. Why did people do this? Did knowing someone's hobbies and hometown make women wet? No. Did it make him taste bile? Yes.

“Usually I take my investors out...and we just...meet women at some point...and one or two of them come home with me,” Ben told her honestly. 

She did _not_ like that. 

Things had started out fine. 

Her eyes had lit up when he’d ordered his food and made sure they hadn’t put any animal products in it. She had asked what made him vegan and he’d told her that he preferred to be an asshole to humans exclusively.

But now she was staring at the candle centerpiece, not touching her plate.

“I just think we should say what we want. And I don’t want to talk,” Ben clarified. He _wanted_ to penetrate her a hundred times in any hole she’d let him.

“What do you think happens on a _date_ , Ben?” She said, shortly.

He polished off his drink with gusto. For some reason he _hated_ it when women said his name. 

“The purpose of a date is to get the other person in bed,” Ben said, leaning forward, his tone a reminder that they’d _done that_ already. They were doing this backwards. Her insistence on a ‘real date’ was idiotic and childish.

“Well, I think you’ve pretty much ruined _all chances_ of that happening,” Rey said, setting her fork down, looking like she was about to stab him with it. 

He liked the way her cheeks flushed when she was angry.

“This. This isn’t who I am,” he said, attempting to soften. 

Her hazel eyes held his for a moment, almost like she pitied him. Then she reached across the table, taking his hand. 

Aaaand he wanted to projectile vomit. Why the fuck didn’t she understand what he was trying to say here? 

Slowly, he pulled his hand out from under hers and she read the disgust in his features.

Twisting in her seat, she took her cardigan off the back of the chair and started putting it on. 

“Really? You’re leaving because I don’t want to hold hands? You don’t know, maybe there’s a reason I don’t like to hold hands,” Ben said, even though he had no idea why he hated it with every fiber of his soul.

“I know you. I got it. Loud and clear,” Rey said, putting her purse over her shoulder, ready to stand up. 

He shouldn’t have said it, but he thought it, and it came out.

“Okay, well, let’s not pretend you know me just because you sucked my dick, sweetheart,” Ben said, standing up at the same time as her and walking the other direction.

He liked getting the last word. That felt good.

Walking briskly through the restaurant out into the hot night, his temper dissipated. He ran across the street to call for his driver. He could get him to pick him up from the convention center. The Bouchon wouldn’t care that he didn’t pay. It was in his fucking hotel.

Talking to his driver, he had to explain that the date had gone sour, but then he saw Rey coming out his way and he hung up, trying to think of an apology.

“Listen, Rey-,” he said, when she was close enough to hear him, but then she winded her arm up and clocked him in the jaw with her bony-ass hand.

“MOTHERFUCK!” He screamed, holding his mouth where her fucking ring had busted his lip. How did someone in a miniskirt hit like that?!

He watched her storm away as his car pulled up in front of him and he jumped in the backseat, slamming the door loud, hoping she could hear it.

“Are you okay, sir?” Patrick, his driver inquired.

“Yeah, just needs ice,” he muttered, still holding his lip, feeling it swell. 

Ten minutes later, they pulled up to his house and he tossed Patrick a tip--incentive to keep his mouth shut about Ben’s failed night.

After changing and chasing an Advil with whiskey and Coke, his home security system beeped. Holding an ice cube to his bottom lip, he went over to the side door, expecting to see his cleaning lady leaving late--not realizing he’d come home and set it--but instead he saw Rey at his front door, arms crossed, staring at him.

Did his assistant give her his address? 

“The fuck,” he said under his breath, walking to the door, not bothering to put a shirt on. She was lucky he was wearing pajama pants.

Silencing the alarm and opening the door, he saw she was holding her heels.

“You know, in order to do the Walk of Shame you have to do something to be ashamed of,” he said, before she said whatever gibe she had in mind.

“I’m not the one who needs to be ashamed,” she said, pushing past him into his house.

“Um. That’s trespassing. I’ll add that to _assault_ ,” Ben said. 

What was she doing? He didn’t know her well enough to predict her at all.

“Why don’t you stop talking, since it looks like your lip hurts,” she said, turning around in his living room.

Ben smirked. Talking did hurt. So did smiling, but he couldn't help it. He liked her backtalk.

“My name is Rey Palpatine. I’m twenty-one. I’m majoring in philanthropic studies. My best friends are gay and I have no other guy friends. I’ve never dated. I’d like to. I’d like to travel with someone. I’d like someone to spoon me, not because it’s cute, but because it seems hot. I don’t like to hold hands, I just like _your_ hands and I wanted to touch them. I don’t say ‘make love’, I say ‘have sex’. I’m not actually very mushy for a girl. I didn’t even particularly like it when you called me ‘sweetheart’ when we were having sex. I just _really_ like your voice. I liked being choked. I didn’t know that until you. I like blowjobs. Didn’t know that either. I have probably gotten off fifty times thinking about you. I would literally name my vibrator ‘Ben’, if you didn’t hate your own name so much. So tell me what to call you. I’ll call you Daddy. But you have to tell me about you and you have to be nice to me and stop acting like I’m a sap because I think we might be perfect for each other and we're just miscommunicating.”

  
Ben forgot for a moment that his mouth hurt. He forgot that he didn’t like it when she said his name. His dick was hard and he couldn’t think of _anything_ to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey is basically me.


	4. Search for what’s in front of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I'll search for what's in front of me  
>  And hope that I find something new  
> My heart is like the ocean searching  
> Searching for the shore, I'm learning  
> There must be something more than dreaming**
> 
> Aawake At Night by half alive

Ben took a step closer, thinking. Vile honesty he could get behind. 

“I hate it when women say my name because they don’t know me and I don’t want them to. I’m thirty-one and I’ve always hated the words ‘dating’, ‘relationship’, ‘love’, and I obviously can’t even say them without air quotes because I think it’s absolute greeting card bullshit. I will say that I liked you a lot, more than anyone else I’ve ever fucked, and I didn’t mean to insult you but it’s hard to sit down to dinner with you _before_ I’ve drilled you because I am very impatient and I had to wait two weeks to get you again—like your pussy was a table at a five star restaurant and guess what, I haven’t had to make a reservation in years—so I don’t like that. I want you the second it crosses my heathen mind.”

He stopped when Rey smiled, even though he could have kept going. He could have told her that she was surprising and that he jerked off thinking about her too and that he had already stocked his bathroom with Herbal Essences in the inevitable event she showered here. And that since their romp he’d had four opportunities to get his dick wet with other women and inexplicably _hadn’t_. 

He’d even had a dream or two about her.

But he’d said enough, she looked satisfied, setting her heels down next to his couch to indicate she was staying.

She padded right up to him and tilted his chin down to examine her handy work.

“I forgot I was wearing the ring,” she said, by way of apology.

He caught a brief whiff of her hair and thought about kissing her, but she probably didn’t want his bloody lip on hers, perfect and pink.

She released his chin, frowning down at the almost-melted ice cube in his hand. Turning, she headed for his kitchen, pouring his drink down the sink with a splash and refilling it with tap water. She then grabbed some salt from next to the stove and poured it into the water, handing it to him.

“Thanks,” Ben said. He hadn’t thought of that.

The warm saltwater tasted like his childhood. The ocean. Their house on Wrightsville Beach in North Carolina. He hadn’t thought about _that_ in a decade.

He stepped to the sink and leaned, letting the water run over the cut and into the sink.

It felt better already. A little sting followed by less pain. He took another sip and she slid up to sit on his counter, waiting for him to finish. It reminded him of fucking her on the bathroom counter of The Dorsey. Maybe she wanted him to fuck her there.

He spit in the sink and turned to her but then her stomach growled and they both laughed. 

“Sorry about dinner,” he said. They hadn’t managed more than a few bites before shit hit the fan. Opening the fridge door, he dug around, settling for a couple basic sandwiches: Hickory Smoked Tofurkey, vegan mayo, lettuce. 

She took her sandwich in both hands and walked around, looking out the back at the pool, then wandering down the hall. 

He followed her crumbs, gingerly eating his own sandwich and trying not to let the bread touch his bottom lip. He saw some specks on the stairs and took them two at a time, trying to catch up. 

He found her sitting on the end of his bed, licking her fingers.

“I have this crazy fantasy. It’s called Sex In A Bed,” she said sarcastically, a jab at him for deflowering her in a public restroom.

His mouth started watering, and not from the sandwich, seeing her legs parted just slightly in her little skirt.

“I’m almost done,” he said, meaning the sandwich. It was slow going, with his handicap. But he was equally hungry on both fronts.

“Touch yourself,” he said, still watching her. 

“While you’re eating?” She laughed. 

His mouth was full so he just waved a finger in a circle as if to say ‘shut the fuck up and do it.’

“Fine,” she said, sliding herself to the center of the bed, lifting her hips and slowly slipping her thong down her legs, giving him dinner and a show.

She still had her skirt on, but it was so short she barely raised it two inches to rub herself, a gentle up and down pattern.

“Not like you’re trying to seduce me. Like you’re alone and you only have two minutes to come,” he said.

“ _Why_?” She said, sitting up. “I didn’t come here to get _myself_ off.”

“Because my dick has been hard for five minutes and--as soon as this sandwich is gone--I’m putting it somewhere, so if that’s where you want it, you better prepare,” he said, wishing she would hurry. He was already halfway done.

She laid back again, laughing at his frankness. She looked around, pulling the extra blanket up from the foot of the bed, up just past her waist. 

He had no idea what she was doing.

She lifted her hand up to the outside of the blanket and started rubbing in earnest, diagonally across her crotch, like a DJ.

“What’s with the blanket?” He asked, his cheek full. He did prefer getting to see her hand up her own skirt.

She inhaled deeply, annoyed, as if she was already close and he’d ruined it. “I don’t know, it’s too sensitive when you touch yourself directly. This is better.” Then continued.

Her legs tensed out straight, toes pointing, her hand going a mile a minute.

“Jesus fuck,” he mumbled, completely forgetting about his sandwich. Did women really masturbate like this?

Her face screwed up and eventually relaxed, her hand ceasing it’s friction attack. She took a deep breath, flicked the blanket off, and turned onto her side, waiting.

“That was it?” He said, impressed. That was like thirty seconds. She could get herself off faster than he could chew and swallow. “God, sometimes I wish I was a woman,” he said, abandoning his sandwich on the nightstand and crawling on top of her.

He slid two fingers into her and she laid back flat, closing her eyes. 

“Oh fuck, your pussy is magic,” he groaned into her chest. She was hot and swollen, slick, and _tight_ , like two weeks ago never happened. 

He separated his fingers, still inside her, turning them and stretching her, not trying to get her off, just hoping to help so she wouldn’t tear. 

She whined, enjoying it. He gave her G spot a little rub and she arched, wanting more, but he’d hit her there with his cock. Difficult from missionary position, his least favorite.

He flipped her over onto her stomach and kicked his pants and boxers off, licked his hand and readied himself, sliding her skirt up onto her back, feeling like it was Christmas morning and he was unwrapping the big present.

Her pert little ass. Fuck. This was his first time seeing it. He’d bite it if his lip didn’t hurt.

He slipped into her easily, fighting the resistance until his cock pushed and squeezed as deep as her limits would allow. So tight. So warm. 

If dicks could sigh.

She made a little noise of pleasure, raising herself up onto all fours and he backed up accordingly, pulling her back and forth over him, finding a rhythm. 

Her slick glistened on his cock, mesmerizing, and he felt himself growing hot everywhere, getting close and it had barely been five minutes, her shaky gasps like porn to his ears.

He pulled out, taking his socks off, an excuse for a hiatus.

Normally he could go all night. Normally he had ‘delayed ejaculation’ issues. Sometimes he never came at all. But then again, he always wore a condom, even for blowjobs. 

But Rey was a virgin when they met. And she was on the pill, so he could go bareback. It was so much more intense, but he didn’t want to let her down. 

Because he wanted her to come back. Every night. 

Or stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats on graduation, JustForYouBenSolo!!!
> 
> Psst. Did anyone notice the banter matched ch2? ;)


	5. Hurt you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I'm sorry if I hurt you  
>  I'm sorry if it got that bad  
> I'm sorry I can't help you  
> Somebody should've had your back  
> I tried but, I don't think so  
> Maybe it was me who was fucking up  
> I gave all I could give but  
> It seems like it never really was enough**
> 
> Hurt by Oliver Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Accidental erotic asphyxiation gone too far.

Rey shook out her hands from where she’d been leaning hard on them and glanced back at him, probably wondering why he’d stopped.

He had tossed his socks already. Now he was just marveling that she had stayed in position, doggy-style and dignity be damned, waiting for him to resume.

He didn’t usually go for skinny women, but there was something sexy about a thigh gap, probably the easy access.

“Come back, _Daddy_ ,” she said, swaying her hips in his face.

She said it like that the first time too, sarcastic, mocking his preference, asking to be pounded.

He _wanted_ to pound her, but her magic pussy was undoing him too fast for bed sex. It didn’t matter so much when they were fucking in the bathroom, because that was a quickie.

Even then though, he had to think of his uncle to slow the urge. He could do that again. Maybe coupled with the missionary position. 

Hate and boredom should do it.

He grabbed her leg and pulled, grinning as she let out a little squeal of surprise. Face to face, she sat up to kiss him, remembered his lip, and went for his neck instead. 

She kissed, then sucked, moving on him and raising her legs to squeeze his hips.

Ugh. He could feel his eyes rolling into the back of his head. It felt as if her tongue was tracing his cock instead of the taut skin of his neck. 

Why was this so difficult? Sex was usually just a hobby. Something he did to wear himself out for a night of dreamless sleep.

He drove himself into her and she laid back, squirming with his movements, so fucking eager. 

Even missionary didn’t work. He could come in ten seconds if he wanted because she didn’t just lay there like most girls, she arched and pulled and her fucking little whines were going to drag him over the edge. 

He clasped her neck--gently, without putting weight on that arm--applying pressure to the sides of her tiny neck, staying away from the windpipe. She smiled, despite the lack of oxygen, trusting him, her whines ceasing.

Counting in his head, still thrusting, he felt her heartbeat drum against his fingertips, then released his grip, watching her take a deep breath, the oxygen and sex hormones hitting her brain at once.

“Ah! Ben,” she cried, shuddering around his cock. He felt a fresh warmth and thought of his fucking uncle, trying to ignore that she just used his name because he liked it then--when she was giving him credit.

His stupid fucking uncle. He went faster. Because he could. He was never going to come thinking about his uncle. Even when she was dripping wet and their body heat was suffocating, her shirt riding up and she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Oh my god her tits were perfect, her nipples just a shade pinker than her skin. He picked one and sucked, his lip stinging. He was going to come.

She said his name again, and he heard an airbag deploy. She clawed at his hand and he felt broken glass. She made a strangled sound and he heard his mother’s voice. He pulled out, coming on her stomach, watching it pool in the little dip of her bellybutton. 

Looking up, back to her face, he realized he was crushing her. 

“Oh, fuck!” He said too loudly, sitting her up so she could gasp, looking at him as if for the first time. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to do that!”

She had her hands over her throat, coughing, deep and terrified. 

He pulled her hands down. “Let me see!” 

She let him check her throat, as if he was a doctor and not the man who just strangled her. There was superficial redness from his hand but her windpipe was okay.

Rey was already calming back down, but her eyes were watering from the coughing.

He grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed and wiped her stomach off, feeling guilty as hell. For jerking off on her stomach while he choked the life out of her. 

He slid off the bed.

His hands shook as he struggled to put his boxer briefs back on, afraid to look at her, to see that she was done with him, that she’d _never_ come back here again. 

It wasn’t like he had a winning personality that would make a bout of PTSD forgivable. 

He’d call Patrick to take her home, since he didn’t drive. 

He’d go back to overpriced therapy. 

He’d have something new to talk about now. 

Now that he knew why he hated hearing his name come out of a woman’s mouth. Because it reminded him of his mother and how--when he needed her most--she’d failed him. 

\---------------------------------------

Ben paced his kitchen, wondering when Rey was going to come down. It had been ten minutes and he wasn’t sure if he should call Patrick or not. 

Did that seem like he was trying to get rid of her? He didn’t want her to leave, he just assumed she’d want to escape him. She might even want to call the police on him. Report him for attempted murder via erotic asphyxiation.

He had come down to get her some water, but he was too ashamed to go back. Fucking coward.

He picked up the water glass and turned the corner, finding her there, in the hall, leaning against the wall, her expression unreadable.

Staring at her stupidly, he asked, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice remarkably normal, but emotional.

“Water?” He offered and she took it.

He didn’t know where to start, but he knew he needed to explain himself if he didn’t want her to hate him.

“I’m not abusive, it wasn’t that kind of thing,” he started, running a hand through his hair. “I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“What happened, where did you go?” She asked. 

She meant mentally, not his trip to the kitchen. He must have looked out of it when he was having the episode.

“Uhh. I feel like telling you will just sound like an excuse,” he said, honestly. 

“ _I told you_ when I got here that you have to tell me about you,” she said.

“You also said I have to be nice to you, and look how that worked out,” he said backing up into the kitchen light. The hallway was dark and he couldn’t see if her neck was bruising or not. 

She followed him into the light. 

It looked okay.

His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. His mother. Rey’s eyes flicked to the screen, reading the name he’d entered her into his phone under.

“Who is ‘Bitch Who Can’t Take a Hint’?” Rey asked, as if she thought he had another woman waiting in the wings.

Ben almost laughed, to hear it read aloud. But he shouldn’t laugh. 

“Come here, sit. I’ll try this talking thing.”


	6. Love it if we made it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **And we can find out the information  
>  Access all the applications  
> That are hardening positions  
> Based on miscommunication  
> And I'd love it if we made it  
> Yes, I'd love it if we made it**
> 
> Love It If We Made It by The 1975

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: attempted murder...attempted anal...and fluff...

“I grew up with the whole East Coast money crowd. My grandfather was rich as Croesus,” Ben started, leaning on the kitchen counter across from Rey as she sipped her water patiently. 

“Bare with me, I swear it’s relevant,” he added, remembering her friends saying she hated money talk. “My uncle—who I _revered_ —was teaching me to drive stick because my parents were never around. We got some food and he was being really nice, then _he_ wanted to drive home. When we got on the interstate, he reached over and unbuckled my seat belt and ran into a concrete overpass.”

“What?!” Rey cried, as Ben lifted his hair up to reveal a scar along his hairline.

“Luckily…,” he continued, eager to finish, “The airbag caught me and we were both taken to the hospital. When I came to, I told my mom what happened and she thought I was whacked out on pain meds. She didn’t believe it.” Ben pulled a cup off the shelf for himself, slamming the cabinet door. “Then! I woke up to him trying to smother me in my fucking sleep with a pillow. At the _hospital_.”

“What the _hell_!?” Rey screamed, furious on his behalf again.

This was kind of fun. Talking about it. He'd poured the water from the fridge faucet, his glass was full and his mouth was dry, but he was too excited to tell her the rest that he couldn’t take a drink.

“So I ran for it. I went and lived off my savings on my own until my 18th birthday when suddenly I had...well, an exorbitant amount of money in my account. I had inherited. And, come to find out, if I didn’t exist, it would have been split between my mom and her brother.”

Rey looked like she was waiting for more.

“Oh! And I hate my mom and haven’t spoken to her since the hospital 13 years ago.”

“Right, but why the...strangling?” She said, reminding him that there was a point to his story.

“Fuck, right. I have PTSD and when we were fucking I thought about my uncle so your magic pussy wouldn’t wreck my condomless dick in record time. Also women make me think of my mother apparently and it sent me into an episode. Usually I only get them on the highway and _that_ is why I don’t have a license.”

Rey smiled, somewhere around his mention of her magic pussy, and he felt a little relieved. Talking was good. He got it now. 

“You know, you could just _come_ , whenever you feel like it, and then,” she leaned forward and he could see right down her shirt. “We could just go again when you get hard again.”

“You know I strangled you tonight, right?” Ben said. She was being very cavalier and also fucking hot as hell about this whole situation.

She smacked his busted lip lightly.

“Ow!” He said, indignantly, taking a step back.

“We’re even, _Daddy_!” She laughed.

Ben was pretty sure he’d just found someone as fucked up as he was. And he was hard again.

He ran around the counter, scooping Rey over his shoulder and making for the couch. 

“Your ass is in trouble now,” he said, giving her a spank before flopping her unceremoniously onto her back.

He watched as she tried to gracefully right herself. “I have sweatbands bigger than this skirt.”

She flipped over and planted her feet on the carpet, leaning forward on the cushions, _displaying_ her ass for him and eyeing his tenting pajama pants.

“Jesus fuck woman,” he muttered, his dick throbbing. “Don’t worry, I’m going to retire the choking for the foreseeable future,” he said, aligning his hips with hers and slipping a hand between her legs, gravity his best friend as he felt her still slick from earlier, pooling right at her entrance.

“I thought you said _my ass_ was in trouble,” she hinted, bending lower. She wasn’t talking about spankings now.

“Where the fuck have you been all my life?” He said, rubbing her slick from her entrance towards him, between her round little cheeks, still some to spare to rub on his aching cock, his pants pulled down just a few inches.

She bit her lip, embarrassed. Excited too. Like the way she looked her first time. 

Ben wasn’t about to hurt her again tonight so he made sure she was well-lubed. Slowly, he slipped in, half an inch at a time, hearing her gasp, unsure. 

“Want me to go first? I think I have a dildo somewhere,” he joked. She laughed and he felt her muscles squeeze his cock. Laughter felt _good_.

Ben pulled out, slow again, groaning in self pity. Her tight little asshole was like a vagina _that sucked._

“Why don’t we try that another day?” He whispered, to let her know he wasn’t disappointed that it hurt, but that he’d be willing to try again eventually.

“Come on, let’s take a shower and hash out this multiple male orgasm plan,” he said, pulling his pants back up.

“You’re into this talking thing now, aren’t you? Trigger warning, I’m going to use a word you hate, but they say what you crave in a _relationship_ is what you were lacking in your childhood.”

Ben smirked as he lead her back upstairs, “Rey, I’m pretty sure my childhood wasn’t lacking in anal.”


	7. You told me twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **She cried out for my name  
>  I didn't hesitate  
> I screamed I cannot be your saint  
> I know you can't be saved  
> I blanked last night when you told me  
> I blanked last night when you told me twice**
> 
> When the flies fell by Sub Urban

His phone buzzed on the table. Reading the screen, he reached over, declining the call with a tap, muscle memory by now.

“How often does she call, twice a week?” Rey asked, assuming it was his mother again. 

They’d been shacking up together for two weeks and Rey said she suspected he didn’t block his mother’s calls because one day he planned to answer. He told her he did it because hitting that red button made him all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Can you pass me the wine?” He asked, changing the subject.

She handed him the bottle, giving him the look. 

The look she gave him every other day, any time she tried bringing up his past. 

“Apparently the only way to get personal information out of you is the guilt of a near-death experience,” she complained. “I’m a little jealous that your therapist knows more about you than I do.”

That wasn’t true, he barely gave his therapist shit. Other than tons of money. Ben didn’t pour the wine, watching Rey stand, worried she was going to go back to her place.

“I think I’m going to go for a swim,” she said, untying the bow at the back of her neck, letting her dress drop to her feet, using the tools his therapist couldn’t. Soft curves and see-through bras.

His fork clattered to his plate as he misjudged the distance.

Reaching behind her back, she unclasped her bra and tossed it on the floor too, walking towards the pool in her underwear. His chair scraped as he turned to watch her, her cheeky black panties making him forget about dessert.

She took the pool stairs, letting him get a good look as she slid into the heated water, the submerged lights illuminating her body. She dipped under, running her hands over her breasts on the way up.

Well, fuck.

Ben watched her from the sliding glass door. “How’s the water?” He asked casually, letting her play with him.

“It’s _warm_ , do you want _in_?” She teased, standing up so that everything above her belly button was out of the water.

“I know you’re fucking with me...and it’s working,” he said, tugging his shirt off by the tag and kicking his shoes off. 

She giggled, paddling backwards as his pants came off and he dove towards her. He swam right up between her thighs, putting her legs over his back and standing up, depositing her to sit on the edge of the pool.

The cold air chilled her instantly and she wanted back in the water, but he pulled her panties off and replaced them with his mouth in two seconds.

“Ah! Ben!” She cried, annoyed. She was going to try to seduce some answers out of him, but he hadn’t given her the chance.

He stood higher in the water, licking and kissing up her stomach to her breasts, everything tasting like chlorine, tracing the curve with his tongue and picking her back up as he fell backwards into the water.

“Ben, ah, stop for a second,” Rey said, when they were floating entwined, his hand rubbing her clit. “I just-UH! I want to know you. There’s nothing you can tell me that will fuck this up, okay?”

Ben leaned in quickly, kissing her again, beating her at her own game as she moaned into his mouth, but then she pulled her face away. “Ben, I’m serious.”

He hated that tone with his name.

“Well, you say that, but it’s not true. Because I like that you don’t know everything. I like the way you look at me now and I don’t want to see that change. It’s not all endearing,” he said, frustrated, standing up and walking to the wall to get out.

His palms hit the side and he started to lift himself when she spat, “I love you!”

Ben’s hands slipped and he fell back in the pool, turning to look at her, awkwardly taken aback.

“I love you,” Rey repeated, watching his jaw work, the way it did when he was nervous. “I told you about my parents giving me to my grandmother when I was five. I told you my grandmother gave me over to the Care system when I was ten. I told you my foster parents sucked. I told you I live with two gay men who walk around in their tighty whities. I told you all that and I hated it.”

“This isn’t the same thing,” Ben growled, louder than before, humor gone.

“I don’t care, just tell me. What’s the Big Secret? Why haven’t you forgiven your mum in over a decade for thinking you were whacked out on pain meds, like, it’s a crazy thing for someone to hear, that their brother tried to murder their son and _it is_ kind of unbelievable. I feel sorry for her, even!” Rey said, covering her chest with one arm, probably wishing they weren’t half naked in the pool for this argument. 

She’d be so adorable if she hadn’t just said that. Ben splashed her, like an angry teenage boy, “Don’t fucking feel sorry for her! I almost died because she wouldn’t believe me!”

“You have to get over it!” Rey screamed, wiping her eyes, her mouth open in shock that he’d splashed her.

He couldn’t help his physical reactions, this was the topic that turned him into The fucking Hulk.

“You don’t get over something like that! She’s a fucking bitch who left me there to be smothered! I hope she drives off a bridge!” He shouted, glad he didn’t have neighbors. He needed a wall to punch, but he was surrounded by fucking unpunchable water.

“They say you can tell a lot about a man by the way he treats his mother,” Rey said, dripping with disgust as well as water.

He glared her down now, the worst face he could conjure, the one that looked like he was ready to burn his own house to the ground with him inside it. 

She swam backwards, distancing herself.

“What do _they_ say, Rey? What do they say about choke-holding your uncle to death in a hospital with your own broken arms? Shut the fuck up acting like you know what this is about. Stop trying to save me. You don’t _love_ me. I’m fucking unlovable,” he said, his volume eerily quiet now. 

She looked scared, like she preferred his booming voice.

Turning, she climbed out and ran around the pool, into the house where she grabbed her purse and dress and fled out the front door, looking back to make sure he wasn’t following as she slipped her dress on in his driveway and kept going as fast as her bare feet could take her.

Ben hadn’t cried since he was seventeen. But he did then, wishing he had just told her he loved her instead of blanking.

He’d forgotten what it felt like. To cry. Diving down for Rey’s panties like a fucking pool toy before his cleaning lady saw them.


	8. Cry about the future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Cry about the future  
>  She'll leave you behind  
> I'm staying still while the seasons arrive  
> This ain't the place for me, why do I try?  
> Get up and drive  
> Go sixty-five  
> No destination inside of my mind**
> 
> alive by guardin, PVRIS

Ben turned the half-empty bottle three times before he realized it was too big for the console cup holder. He took a long, toxic swig and tossed it over his lap to smash on his driveway, closing the car door.

He was still in his suit from work and he didn’t have a bag packed or anything, but it didn’t matter, he had his wallet. He could buy more clothes.

Squinting closely at the keys, he found the fat one and stuffed it in the ignition, burping in his mouth as the car started. He checked his mirrors, all of them too low because he was taller than whoever had driven his car last. 

Whatever.

Throwing his arm over the passenger seat, he turned to see out the back window, but bumped his trash anyway, watching the recycling fall onto his lawn, the clinking of glass echoing in the can. Lots of empty bottles.

“Whoops,” he laughed, putting the car in drive and pulling out of his driveway without braking at the bottom, eager to get on the road, going anywhere. Maybe California, find his dad. Or North Carolina, find his mom and slash her tires. He’d get on the highway without looking and let fate decide.

It had been three weeks since Rey left him. It might as well have been a year ago. He refused to text her. She was tactless and shouldn’t have pressured him. 

Blinking hard, leaning forward to read the street signs, he tried to remember how Patrick got to the highway. 

He missed the smell of Rey’s Herbal Essences that lingered in his shower. He missed her hair clogging his drain. He missed her goddamn magic pussy that undid him twice a night and tasted like heaven that time she did a three day juice fast. 

He groaned, running a red light, but it was 3am, no one else was out. A good time to drive again. For the first time in fourteen years.

He kept having the same dream, him and Rey staring into the large mirror of the Dorsey’s men’s restroom, her in her Audrey Hepburn birthday dress. She’d tell his reflection ‘I love you, Ben,’ and he’d tell her’s ‘Don’t call me that.’

His eyes closed for one second and he brushed along a parked car, popping off their side mirror. “Oh, shit,” he said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping well. He hadn’t expected Rey to hold out on an apology this long. 

That probably meant she wasn’t coming back. Now, if she did, he wouldn’t be there. He wiped at his wet eyes, leaky often these days. Now that he'd opened the floodgates.

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the list Poe and Finn had written, trying to unfold it without losing control of the steering wheel. 

“Be persistent,” he slurred aloud. Well, he was failing at that one already. 

“Thomas Hardy,” he laughed, seeing the overpass to get on the highway. “I took a fucking _class_ on Hardy in college.” To get girls.

“No trucks,” he read, turning onto the on ramp. “Check!” He’d been learning to drive a fucking truck when his uncle tried to kill him.

He sped up, rolling down the window, holding the list out, letting the air whip into the car, cool and loud and lonely.

He missed her vile honesty.

“She liked vulnerable. She didn’t like messy,” he said, letting go. 

His foot started pressing on the gas, until the slightest twitch of the steering wheel redirected the car drastically. There were several cars on the highway and far fewer street lights as he put distance between him and Vegas. 

Holding his phone up, he checked for the umpteenth time, but she hadn’t texted him. Maybe he should just fucking do it.

He missed her backtalk.

Watching the road, he wrote and rewrote a message five times, changing from anger to apologies, to long explanations about the event, how his uncle would have killed him and it was self defense. 

He erased it all, typing in three words.

Something ran across the road and he swerved. No, it was a fucking leaf. He overcompensated and hit the sandy shoulder, circling to a stop in a cloud of dust, coming in through his window. He turned the car off and threw up, his vomit running down the side of the driver door.

He punched the horn, frustrated that his impromptu attempt to travel--like on Rey’s list--was cut short after an hour on the road, but stopped, worried he was going to set off the airbag. Last time it broke his nose. 

Wiping his mouth, he put on his seat belt. He turned the car back on, rolled up his window, and returned to the highway, slamming on his blinker and speeding up quickly to match everyone’s speed. 

He dug around for his phone. It had flown into the passenger floorboard area, but his arms were long, grabbing it. Maybe she had responded. 

But, looking at it, he had never hit send.

He passed a parked Nevada state trooper, the bright screen of his phone lighting up the car and he knew they were going to pull him over before their lights even lit up, red and blue.

“Jesus fuck,” he said, setting his phone down and putting his blinker on, pulling over.

He didn’t have a license. And he was drunk. And texting. And his car was covered in sandy vomit.

The state trooper approached. A woman. Shining her flashlight at his face.

Ben glanced down at his phone, reading the message he never sent.

**I** **miss you**

“Roll down your window,” the officer instructed, but Ben reclined his seat, holding his phone up, reading their old conversations.

“Sir, have you been drinking?” She asked, shining her light down the side of his car and back through his window.

“Yeah, I had some pills too,” Ben said, reaching over and locking the door. 

She did not like that.

“I’m going to need you to step out of the car, sir,” she said, louder now, putting her hand on her gun holster.

“Thank you,” Ben laughed. “I love it when women call me ‘sir’,” he shouted. “Daddy works too.”

She pulled her gun out, probably more pissed than afraid.

“And yet to every bad there is a worse,” Ben muttered, hitting the send button. “Thomas fucking Hardy.”


	9. Go to plan B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I'm fucking shaking again  
>  She said I get that  
> I love how she's so understanding  
> Oh fuck, I'm drunk  
> I don't think she understands me  
> It's okay, I'll just shut up and go to plan B  
> I'm too fucked  
> I can't even text you**
> 
> Oh fuck I’m drunk by guccihighwaters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added a noncon warning (even though it wasn’t noncon in my opinion) but two people requested it :/

Ben’s mouth was dry, but he found a pack of old gum and made a show of unwrapping a piece, popping it in his mouth, checking his phone again. No response.

The female cop was losing her shit.

“Get the _fuck_ out of the car before I call for backup!” She shouted, tapping the glass with the tip of her gun. Apparently using curse words was supposed to intimidate him. 

She was probably under 5 feet tall. Ben laughed. “What? You don’t have a partner?” 

He could hear her sigh as he closed his eyes and listened intently, expecting her to bust through the glass and unlock the door herself, but instead she changed her tone.

“Dude, I’m having a bad week. Help me out,” she said, sounding defeated.

Ben slowly sat up, feeling like a dick. He unlocked the doors and stuffed his phone in his back pocket.

Female Cop was pouty, but calmer now that he was cooperating, putting her handgun back in it’s holster and opening his door before he changed his mind. 

“Thank you. Step out please,” she said, and he did, realizing how small she was compared to him.

She seemed to be noticing the same thing, taking a step back.

“Do you have any weapons in the vehicle?” She asked meekly, and he shook his head. She turned him around and leaned him against the dusty car. Her hands patted down his chest and suit pockets, ass, thighs, and ankles. Satisfied he wasn’t carrying, she pulled his arms behind his back to handcuff him. 

“Buy me dinner first,” Ben joked, since they were similar in age, and she scoffed. 

Ben grinned, leaning hard on his car for support, feeling lightheaded. He hadn’t been eating much.

Pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, she began rifling through it, finding his State ID and business card. “Ben Solo...The Venetian, fancy.”

Spinning him back around, she recited his Miranda rights and why she was arresting him, gently swiping his hair out of his eyes, probably so the body camera could see his face. Then she escorted him to her squad car, helping him because he could barely walk straight.

Ben chuckled when she struggled to reach his head to feed him into the back seat, but then he caught a whiff of fucking Herbal Essences, closed his eyes, and kissed her. Hard. Her mouth opened on his once, surprising him, but then she jerked her head away.

“What the hell?” She said, pushing him down and kicking at his feet until they were inside.

“Sorry. You just reminded me of someone,” Ben said, squirming, his arms trapped behind his back. He really was an unlovable prick.

She took a deep breath, staring at him, then reached down and turned her body camera off.

“Stay right there,” she said, closing the door.

“Where else would I go?” Ben said to himself, watching her walk around the back of the car instead of to the driver’s seat.

She opened up the other back seat door and climbed inside, sitting next to him and facing forward with her door still open. They probably locked from the inside. He thought at first she was going to get more information from him or something but she was just looking blankly through the metal cage that separated the front from the back.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be back here,” Ben said, wondering if he was too drunk to comprehend the situation.

Her hand came up and tucked a blonde strand behind her ear, the rest in a perfect low bun. “No. I’m not,” she said, looking meaningfully at him then. 

And he knew that look. 

She took off her enormous Batman utility belt and set it at her feet, then twisted her leg in the seat to face him.

They leaned at the same time, mouths meeting almost violently, her hands in his hair and rubbing his pants before a full minute had gone by. She must have been having a _really_ bad week.

Despite his depression, he felt himself growing hard, his neglected cock begging for more.

“God, you’re big,” she said, catching her breath, her fingers tracing his outline.

She started digging in his back pockets, but he just had his phone. It took him a second to realize what she was searching for.

“I don’t have a condom,” he confessed. He didn’t need them with Rey. “I’m clean. Though,” he pleaded, starting to shake with need, wishing he wasn’t fucking restrained.

“Ugh, I’m not on birth control,” she groaned, frustrated that penetrative sex had just been taken off the table, unzipping his pants instead to go down on him.

“Oh, fuck,” Ben said, his head falling back as her warm lips enveloped him, cars passing close by at high speeds, making the car shake slightly.

She bobbed obscenely fast, sucking and spitting, her hand working his shaft. Every time he groaned, she renewed her efforts, humming with her own need. 

Maybe she planned to uncuff him so he could finger her. 

He leaned down, smelling her hair and pretending she was Rey. He remembered when Rey raked her teeth over him and tensed sweetly, nerves electrified, and spurted down the cop’s throat, forgetting to warn her, lost in his sick memories.

She gagged and swallowed, licking her lips for his enjoyment. “Mmm, you like that, Daddy?” She said, cleaning him off with her tongue and he groaned again because he was grateful for the release. He didn’t deserve it.

“Ben! What the fuck?!”

“Did you hear that?” She asked, suddenly scared and looking around.

Ben’s head snapped up, feeling dizzy.

“I think you butt dialed someone,” she whispered, pulling his phone out of his pocket and ending the call. With Rey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill meeee


	10. Text me that you fucking hate me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Text me that you fucking hate me  
>  Well it's 'bout time that you do  
> Get the fuck up out my life   
> Because I'm still in love with  
> I'm sick of your voice  
> Sick of your face  
> Sick of your choices  
> Sick of your name  
> Sick of your pleasure  
> Sick of your pain**
> 
> Sick Of You by DNMO, Sub Urban

“Um,” the cop said, getting his attention because he was staring at the ceiling. She held his phone up to show him a new text from Rey.

**I fucking hate you.**

Ben looked away, out the window. It was getting light out.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” she said, putting Ben’s dick in his boxer briefs and zipping his suit pants back up. 

“She was. Three weeks ago,” Ben said, wiping his eyes on his shoulders, which were starting to hurt from being stuck in this position.

She buckled him in and put on her utility belt, then slid out her side, walking around to the driver’s seat. 

“Where can I take you?” She asked, quietly, looking at him in her rear view mirror.

\---------------------------

  
  


Rose, his therapist, sat wide-eyed in her over-sized chair as Ben unloaded  _ everything  _ on her. His uncle. Fucking Rey in the bathroom. Falling for her. Choking her by accident. Their fight. The worst rock bottom he could ever hit. Like a massive, dark pit of rock bottom.

“Ben, take a seat! Drink some water,” she pleaded again, tired of his pacing. 

He’d been going for half an hour, ever since the cop pulled up to his 7am appointment like a Reno 911 Lyft, helped him out, and uncuffed him in front of half of Rose’s staff, still in his suit from yesterday with his shirt tail hanging out.

Taking a drink of water, Ben paused, leaning against her bookcase for support.

“When was the last time you ate? You’ve lost weight,” Rose said, standing up and going into her desk, tossing him a Cliff Bar.

Ben smiled, catching it and trying to remember. “I’ve been on a liquid diet,” he muttered.

“So. Apart from the killing of your uncle, which you say was chalked up to complications from his accident--and makes me lose all faith in doctors--you’re telling me a Nevada state trooper  _ totally  _ just abused her position and tried to have sex with you in the back of her car,” Rose said, annoyed, coming back to her seat.

“Well, I kissed her first,” Ben reminded her, taking a bite of the Cliff Bar.

“It doesn’t matter Ben. If you were drunk and came onto me, I’d knee you in the fucking balls,” Rose said, exasperated. “But you can’t control what other people do. You can only control you. And you’ve fucked up.”

Ben was coughing on his bar. Rose never cursed and frequently asked him to tone it down. He was a bad influence on her.

“Yeah, I know,” Ben said, sitting down.

They sat in silence a moment, then Rose slammed her hands down on the seat. “But this is the best progress you’ve ever made and I’m proud of you!” She stood up and did an actual victory fist ‘ca-ching’ motion. “My assistant told me I would  _ never  _ get through to you!”

“Was it Kaydel?” Ben asked dryly. He’d fucked her three years ago.

“Let’s ignore the fact that you boned my secretary,” Rose said, sitting back down, the wheels in her head turning. “Let’s talk about how you climb out of this hole.”

“I was thinking I would just float face down in my pool until I fell asleep,” Ben said, wolfing down the rest of the bar.

Rose rolled her eyes, tired of his dark humor. “I can tell you what I’d like to see, and you can take it or take it. I’d like to see you leave your ego at the door and go get the girl. I’d like to see you put in some effort. I’d like to see you become a good man and move forward,” Rose said, handing him a sheet of paper.

“What’s this?” Ben asked, sardonically. “Do you want me to draw my  _ feelings _ ?”

Rose tossed a pen on the table. “Use this next half hour to write an apology to Rey. Then I want you to go home, take a quick shower and a long nap, and then go find her.”

“I don’t think I’m paying you enough,” Ben said, picking up the pen.

\-----------------------------------

Patrick pulled up to Rey’s town home that she shared with Finn and Poe. “I think it was the one with the flower boxes,” he said, pointing excitedly. 

Ben swiped a hand through his hair and climbed out, running up to her door and knocking. Finn answered, saw him, scowled, and immediately slammed the door in his face.

Glancing back at Patrick, still waiting in his parking spot, Ben knocked again. This time Poe answered and he spoke quickly, “I just want to talk to her.”

“Well tough shit, asshole. She boarded her flight to London an hour ago. Maybe you should have thought of her before you plowed some clubrat,” Poe said, making to shut the door but Ben jammed his foot in, ready for it this time.

“We were on a break! What’s she doing in England!?” Ben asked, as Poe kicked at his shoe.

“She transferred back to Oxford and guess what? She didn’t know you were on a break, she was really excited when you texted, immediately followed by the sounds of your fucking orgasms you selfish prick!” Poe shouted, shoving him out the door. The door slammed and he heard the chain slide into place.

Ben ran back to the car. “Patrick is my rental plane still at McCarren International?”

“Uh, yes,” he said, confused.

“Cool, let’s go, it’s close. I’ll call my pilot,” Ben said, already digging through his phone contacts.

\-----------------------------

“What are you going to say to her?” Patrick asked, watching Ben writing the world’s longest apology. 

Ben brought Patrick along on the flight because he didn’t know if he’d need to drive from London to Oxford. There was a chance their plane wouldn’t beat Rey’s, but his pilot, Wexley, was talking to his contacts and found which flight she was on and apparently they were lapping her.

“I’m apologizing for like three different things and proposing a path forward. I bought every Jimmy Stewart movie ever made. It was 102 movies. I got them in case she wants to just be friends for a while and we could just do that, watch movies, for as long as she wants. She’s majoring in philanthropic studies and I just donated 75% of my fortune to 500 animal sanctuaries around the US. I’m going to tell her that I love her and that I fucked up and beg and beg,” Ben said, feeling half wild.

“Relax,” Patrick said, patting Ben on the back, “It was just a blowjob.”

“How the  _ fuck  _ do you know about that?” Ben said, folding his apology letter and stuffing it into his pocket.

“I’m dating your therapist’s assistant,” he said, as if he thought Ben knew. “She’ll come around.”

“Patrick, I don’t think I’m paying you enough.”


	11. Get redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I'm fucked up  
>  I don't think I can be saved  
> If I ever get redemption  
> It'll be inside the grave  
> I fucked up  
> I fucked up**
> 
> I fucked up by Confolk

Ben jumped out of the plane, not waiting for them to bring the rolling staircase out on the tarmac.

“MOTHERFUCK!” He shouted, crumpling and holding his ankle. It was probably twisted.

“Are you okay, sir?!” Patrick asked from the door.

“Yeah, just needs ice,” Ben groaned, pulling himself up and awkwardly skip-running to the doors of the entrance of Heathrow’s private plane area. 

He had so far to go, the airport massive, but luckily there were treadmill-like sections that expedited his trip to Rey’s landing gate.

He saw passengers already coming out, rolling their carry-ons and stretching after the long flight. Pulling out his apology, wishing he had more time to mentally prepare, or memorize it, Ben saw Rey, shuffling along looking tired and cry-red and beautiful.

She froze, seeing him limping toward her, looking desperate and insane. He looked down at his apology, taking a deep breath, but then she ran to him and it fell to the ground as she collided with him hard.

Ben held her soft body tight to his, closing his eyes and breathing her in, feeling disbelief turn to relief. 

(The end)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *this is supposed to harken back to the How to Get Rey to Fall for You list that he didn't end up needing. Not sure if people will get that haha
> 
> *Also, if you read this far and made it past Ch. 9, thank you! I think I prob lost a lot of readers. Everyone hating 8-10 and those are my favorite chapters bc they’re different...
> 
> *People make mistakes but redemption is possible.
> 
> #wewereonabreak


End file.
